Chapter 2:

A Match Made In Hell......


The term “partner” had been used a lot over the decades in the wrestling world, always meaning somebody to rely on whenever help is needed, someone to turn to when the going gets tough to help out of a sticky situation, someone always there as a sort of human comfort blanket. This was the sort of thing that had helped gain various accolades for achievement in team work, tag team championships and named as the greatest when it came to duos, two people coming together for the greater good to become even more successful as a team than they were on their own as separate entities.

Most partnerships last a lifetime but one in particular seemed doomed to failure from the very start, this only proven in recent times, beginning at All Hallow’s Annihilation. Vitriol had been protective of his partner Michelle Richards, requiring her to speak for him, getting his needs out in a vocal form while he focused purely on the more physical side of things, decimating without the distraction of having to speak. Her role however wasn’t up to the standard Vitriol required and so when Ambrosia showed the kind of spark, the kind of fire and penchant for chaos and pain that Michelle so sorely lacked, witnessing the near collapse of the sanity of Michelle at the hands of Ambrosia seemed to awaken the monster and see her for what he missed, what Michelle never provided.

A true level of insanity, a similarity in personality to himself, the fearless attitude that Michelle never showed the entire time she was at Vitriol’s side, trying to claim front and center for herself. That’s why they’d tormented Michelle as well as Priest, trying to break her mentally and drive her to the edge of her own mind, allow Michelle the chance to look over the precipice of her psyche and see the bottomless pit that lay below. Once she could be broken and left in pieces emotionally, Vitriol and Ambrosia could move on, their task complete and be free to move onto more pressing matters such as taking the so-called “supernatural legend” Priest out of commission once and for all, show him up for what he truly is.

But first of all, that little problem in a blonde package that had disgusted Ambrosia so much and mistreated Vitriol for months. The two had kidnapped Michelle, tied her up, threatened her with extreme violence, injected her with drugs to send her into an unconsciousness, telling her that if she even dared try to run to the man Vitriol had held a grudge against and fought since he first showed that evil, steel mask in MCW, she would pay a heavy toll in much the same way Priest would soon enough. Having set her free, they planned their next move....

The pair of psychopaths looked out from their place within the Federal Medical Center in Lexington, Kentucky. Ambrosia seemed to take a keen interest in what was going on outside, staring out of a window that was made of plexiglass to prevent it being broken and used as a weapon, bars in front of them on the inside as an extra security measure. Her gaze was focused on the yard outside where inmates from the Antaeus housing unit of general population were spending their free time, their daily hour of exercise and recess spent playing basketball or talking in groups or otherwise just watching the others go about their fun time away from the other housing units which would get their chance for recess once these men were ushered inside.

A grey sky hovered overhead with several of the guards wearing jackets whilst clutching handguns and tasers ready to fire warning shots into the air or pass a non-lethal current through anybody that was starting trouble. The need for such force was necessary at times, this being the high security side of the institution. In the not too far distance, a high steel fence with barbed wire along the top separated the yard from a grassy area which in turn held another security fence on the other side where the low security female inmates were imprisoned, guard towers situated along the perimeter at various vantage points to see and stop trouble or guide the guards via radio to where something may be happening that wasn’t spotted by those with eyes on the ground or watching the security cameras.

She sighed as she remembered the childhood she’d spent looking out of this very window, watching her father dominating the yard with his sheer size and willingness to get physical whenever he wanted to show his authority, being too dangerous to send to the slightly more relaxed but still just as tough psychiatric hospital not too far away but needing to have special care and attention because of his state of mind and sadist tendencies. Ambrosia herself had this psyche passed down to her through her father’s genes but spent her earlier years as a shy and quiet child, no way someone of her age who hadn’t yet shown the insanities of her paternal genetics could be locked up with the low risk female criminals and so having to be watched over by guards specially trained to deal with the needs of a child that had to live and be educated here while her father was locked up in the Bluegrass housing unit.

It seemed ironic since he hated the name, hated the genre of music it was named after and much preferred the echoed halls of the Commonwealth North and South, the institution’s psych unit, unfortunate that he’d snapped while being treated and after attacking and almost murdering doctors in that unit during one particularly unwelcome treatment and was forced into the general population area. It was a shame because he quite liked that area of the institution but because they didn’t want a repeat of an incident in 1998 when two insane inmates used a fire extinguisher to kill another, he had to be moved. Ambrosia remembered that moment well, watching frightened and screaming thinking that her father was going to be taken to be killed by lethal injection or electric chair, trying to attack the guards and doctors dragging Saul down the corridors, showing the first signs of her violent streak.

She had to be dragged kicking and screaming herself all the way out to a secured room with nurses trying to calm her down, Ambrosia ignoring them and throwing chairs around the room and screaming for them to give her back her daddy, still worried that the only parent she ever knew was about to be taken away from her forever. She was the product of a rape committed by her father and although he’d explained it to her in graphic detail, she was still slightly too young to understand at the time and had never been told why her mother never raised her, why she had to grow up here and on the road when her father competed in wrestling companies. All she knew was that she was here like Saul, both of them imprisoned in a place that was home to both of them, felt more like home than anywhere else, knowing that she wanted to be just like him, whether it be tearing up the wrestling rings or tearing a chair from the floor and impaling the leg into a fellow inmate’s chest.

She even remembered the times she fell and hurt herself like all children and was tended to by nurses and guards in the Health Care Unit rather than the comforting embrace of a loving parent, her own father still stuck in his cell and only allowed to see her after the incident, giving her his first ever discussion about how pain can be overcome without going into too much detail – indeed, that would be further explained years later – but at least trying to act the devoted parent despite the surroundings and the circumstances of him being here. A sigh escaped her lips as she stared out of the window, lost in memories but each one twisting and shape-shifting, a product of her fragile sanity that causes childhood memories to be interspersed with thoughts, images and memories of murder victims, amputees, people that Ambrosia had seen terrorized in snuff movies or watched in awe as she flicked through pages and pages detailing crime scenes in all their glorious brutality or even those she or her father had removed from existence.

Behind her and remaining silent and watchful stood Vitriol, his dark coveralls and steel nightmarish mask a stark contrast to the bright, clean and clinical surroundings he was in. He watched, possibly with empty thoughts, perhaps planning his next diabolical scheme, maybe even burning a hole through Ambrosia with his piercing eyes, taking note of the unusually quiet female and wondering whether to attack her, leave her lying in a heap right here in this room as he walked away to take on eight teams all by himself. He was certainly more than capable of doing so, the avatar of destruction living up to the moniker he’d been christened with even if certain members of society were unwilling to accept him as the real deal, the genuine article and instead projecting their fears into a more outwardly arrogance as a coping mechanism in the presence of this inhuman horror.

He stared as she turned to him, planting her palm across the cheek of his mask as she hits a vicious slap, causing the beast to lean closer and cock his head to the side, wondering when to strike and why she’d dared to take a shot at him. Ambrosia herself simply gritted her teeth and squinted her eyes, contorting her face in anger before slapping him once more, knocking his long hair asunder and causing him to quickly turn his head to stare at her, his wet hair swinging wildly before falling onto his shoulders and back but Ambrosia with a distinct lack of fear in the face of such possible danger.

Ambrosia: Show me that anger Vitriol because unlike those rats out there, living day to day in routine and confinement, we are free to do as we please. You need to build that hatred we share for society and its illnesses because at Mayhem we’re going to need it against groups of other putrid and pathetic maggots.

She surprises even herself by once more slapping Vitriol square in the mask then following it with a gentle kiss before gripping the back of his head and leaping up to attempt the Mid Air Lungblower but Vitriol has her held in his hands, turning and throwing her without a care where she might land, Ambrosia with a massive thud and a clattering of wood as she ends up sprawled atop a nearby table, her legs and lower back hanging over the edge in an uncomfortable position. Instead of showing any signs of pain however, Ambrosia laughed it off, finding the situation hilarious as Vitriol grabbed her, raising her easily above his head with arms outstretched straight up in a crucifix powerbomb positioning, ready to drive her down on and maybe through the table with Nailed to the Cross when a large booming voice halted plans, causing the masked monster to turn to look towards the door with Ambrosia still held high above him, the room suddenly filled with silence as Ambrosia herself stopped laughing.

Voice: Put her down.

Complying, Vitriol drops her, Ambrosia landing awkwardly on the ground on her side and dragging herself up to her feet. The two stared as her father Saul – better known under his wrestling name as Zolomon – stared at them, anger al over his face with his larger and imposing physique blocking the doorway. This was a sadistic man in his own right but even so, should the need arise or the desire make itself known, Vitriol could and possibly would attack with no fear or remorse, Saul’s size and reputation meaning nothing should the two be engaged in a fight. However, the respect shown to the father of his tag team partner was too great to warrant any kind of battle between the two.

Saul: What do you two think you’re doing?

Stomping her foot on the ground like a defiant child, Ambrosia is the only one to give an answer, sounding almost child-like even though her tone of voice and the way she looks would be as far removed from childhood innocence and naivety as possible.

Ambrosia: We’re just playing daddy.

Saul: Vitriol, leave.

The masked monster nodded his head and left Ambrosia’s side, walking towards Saul before standing in front of him, the two beasts staring at one another in silence before the larger of the two stepped aside, allowing Vitriol to walk out of the room. Closing the door, Saul looked upon his daughter and sighed.

Ambrosia: Dad what’s wrong?

Saul: Nothing’s wrong, it just makes me so proud to see you having fun with a kindred spirit.

Fully expecting to be scolded, Ambrosia raised her eyebrows in surprise as she moved closer to her father, giving him a hug then standing back as he gently caressed her cheek with his bandaged hand.

Saul: Look at you, growing so fast. I’m quite proud of you so far Ambrosia.

Ambrosia: Proud? In what way?

Saul: You’re showing the world that the Absolution truly is reborn and now you’re having a successful career like your new partner.

Ambrosia: I like doing this though, it’s fun getting to beat people up and scare them and still get paid instead of having to sit in a filthy cell.

He responded with a twisted grin, trying to show affection and pride in his daughter but, just like Ambrosia’s attempts at looking pleased, only comes off as having the look of insanity and absolute evil.

Saul: I’m glad you do and getting involved with Vitriol is helping, you both have a lot to learn but even so, the two of you are growing so fast.

Ambrosia: What do you think of Vitriol anyway daddy?

Saul: What do I think? I think he’s absolutely right for you, a perfect match made in Hell. It’s not like either of you needed help because you’re both so demented and unstoppable but together, the possibilities are endless. I always saw a lot of myself in you as you grew up and became a woman before my eyes but with Vitriol, he’s also my equal, someone able to continue my campaign alongside my own flesh and blood and the victory you both achieved over Segador and Golden Eagle proved that.

Ambrosia: Did you see what we did with Michelle?

He nodded and continued to crookedly smile in his own evil way.

Saul: Yes I did and I enjoyed every second of it. That was a nice idea.

She giggled and looked slightly embarrassed in her own unusual way.

Ambrosia: Actually, it was all Vitriol’s idea to crucify her.

Saul: I’m impressed, he truly is a very smart and sick person, just the kind I like. Pretenders like her need to be flushed out and shown that if they don’t want to get their fingers burned, they shouldn’t play with fire. It’s just a shame that you didn’t get to drive those nails into her hands and crucify her because she would have been the first example of what the two of you can achieve together. Your opportunity at the Tag Team championships is imminent though so do what so many will think is impossible and win them, especially if you get to wipe the smile from Lethal Weapon and his non-entity of a son who is just going to find himself on the wrong side when the battle lines are drawn. His father tried to bring you into one of his conflicts and now he and his son will be destroyed in every sense by yourself and by Vitriol.

Ambrosia: Don’t worry daddy, Vitriol and I have a plan already.

She grins at him, the two sharing a special father and daughter moment even if it’s inside the federal correction institution in which the two spent most of Ambrosia’s young life so far, bonding in the way only they could with the great Zolomon himself giving his praise and approval to the team his daughter had found herself in. They say females try to find somebody that reminds them of their father and with this pairing, Ambrosia had found a carbon copy to share her crazy life with.....




Down The Dusty Trail.....


A gentle breeze threw dust and specks of dirt spiraling in places along a highway, a blue van with signs of rusting all over the sides and front still and lifeless nearby. A wooden piece of broken fence rested on the floor as Ambrosia stood in her army surplus boots and a pair of jeans, a black leather corset covering her torso with her tattoos exposed, black and red makeup around her eyes while black lipstick covered her mouth, peering out from that makeup at the empty highway, almost as if she was expecting to see a particular vehicle speed past. After what seemed like an eternity of remaining still and patient by the front of the old beat up van, a white Sedan appeared on the horizon, slowing down as it spotted the young female until pulling over at the side of the highway.

The driver’s door was opened and a young man with short blonde hair stepped out, standing alongside his vehicle and looking at the female seemingly stuck with a van that had broken down. Approaching without the caution he should possibly show given the person he was walking towards, he shot a smile and stood only inches away from Ambrosia, watching as she flickers her eyes and responds with a sheepish grin of her own, almost showing an embarrassment to this person as if she found him incredibly attractive or was feeling ashamed at having broken down in the first place.

Male: Hey I’m Jeff, what’s your name?

She smiled, looking down at the floor and swiveling to and fro with the toes of one boot resting against the road, placing her knee against the other leg in a girly and feminine manner.

Ambrosia: I’m Ambrosia.

Jeff: Cute name.

Ambrosia: Thanks.

She giggled slightly, continuing to bat her eyelids at this stranger and play the stranded damsel in distress. Jeff meanwhile flashed her a smile and looked at her, trying to take his eyes off this beautiful young woman long enough to look at the van, wondering why she’d drive such a distressed looking vehicle and not something more new and flashy and more expensive. Indeed, what had caused her to be in this situation in the first place, stranded at the side of an otherwise empty highway.

Jeff: So, Ambrosia....what’s going on, broken down or something?

Ambrosia: I think so, I was driving along this highway to get home and suddenly my van just stopped working. I’m not good with cars, can you take a look for me?

Nodding, Jeff seemed willing to do whatever this attractive female asked of him, griping the hood with his fingertips and yanking it up to open it, reaching inside carefully as he leant over, trying not to touch anything in case it burned his flesh while he observed the innards, casting his gaze all over the engine. He tried to take a good look but saw nothing unusual with the van at all, frowning slightly unaware that the sheepish grin Ambrosia had given him thus far had turned into something more sinister, keeping her eyes on him as he went over the engine once again checking in case he’d missed any abnormalities.

Jeff: Well, I’m sorry but I just can’t find anything wrong wi....

WHACK!!

The blow came from nowhere, Vitriol having appeared from the side of the van wielding a piece of that broken fence in his hands, slamming the makeshift weapon against the back of the unsuspecting good Samaritan. The impact had even caused Jeff to bang his head on the hood of the van, holding both areas with his hands and turning around in time to catch another in the stomach that both doubled him over and dropped him to his knees on the asphalt, kneeling on all fours as he tried to get his breath back after being winded.

Cackling with glee, Ambrosia took it upon herself to slam one of her boots into the gut of this poor victim, watching as he rolls onto his back and stares up, seeing nothing but blue clear skies and the appearance of Ambrosia and Vitriol, both looking down at him, Ambrosia with an evil smirk while Vitriol’s mask remained emotionless and vile all at once. Jeff raised his hands up slowly, open palms gently waving side to side.

Jeff: Please....don’t hurt me....

His pleas for mercy disgusted Ambrosia, causing her to wrinkle her nose as if she’d caught something in her nostrils that smelled foul, looking at Vitriol who continues his icy stare at this young man, never letting Jeff out of his sights while Ambrosia leaned closer, gently lifting herself onto her toes to reach up while bringing Vitriol’s head to her face, whispering in his ear then standing back. The last thing Jeff saw was that piece of fence coming toward him at speed, a split second later he saw nothing but black.

The duo watched over him, waiting to see if he dared try and move, satisfied that he would remain still and motionless as he lay unconscious on the road. A few carefully placed kicks and nudges using her foot allowed Ambrosia the chance to feel the job was done, at least in part. She looked down at Jeff then spat at him, watching as the clear and slightly foamy saliva started to run down from its landing spot on his chest and across his clothes to drip onto the floor.

Ambrosia: I fucking hate people like him, so arrogant, so NORMAL. Ugh, disgusting. This is the reason we’re doing this Vitriol, to show this sickly sweet, fake world the reality of where we come from, what we represent. Society is wretched just like this waste of meat lying in front of us.

She stares at him as if he were absolute filth then grabs at the sleeve of Vitriol’s coveralls.

Ambrosia: Put him in the van, he might be useful to help send a message.

Complying with her wishes, Vitriol stoops and grabs at Jeff’s clothing, using it as a sort of handle to grasp at the helpless young man, using his strength to easily pick him up off the ground like a bag of flour. Hoisting Jeff over one shoulder, Vitriol makes his way past the side of the van, opening the back door with one hand and placing the body down, giving Jeff a shove to ensure he was moved away from the door then climbing in the back alongside the unfortunate young man. Vitriol reached out for the handle, gripping it and slamming the van door shut while Ambrosia climbs into the driver’s seat, looking back at her partner in crime and smiling at the masked monster, enjoying the fact that he had instinctively climbed in next to Jeff to be there in case he awoke and tried to escape or distract Ambrosia while she drove.

Ambrosia: Time to have some fun.

She turns around, looking out through the windshield of the van and twisting the key in the ignition to bring it to life, the engine roaring as she pushes her foot down and pulls away from the roadside and hurtles down that long and lonely highway.....




Let Battle Commence.....


All were gathered in what looked to be a sort of classroom, the lights either lowered or dim due to the fluorescent lighting in the ceiling giving off a glow that isn’t exactly considered bright by anyone’s standards. The room itself seemed to have a massive blackboard on the front wall, blank and empty but with white and grey streaks where previous writings had been erased and left only the traces upon its surface. White linoleum flooring had dents at the bases of the many tables positioned in rows filling the room up, each small wooden desk had a chair positioned behind it occupied by a person. Each person seemed unique in their looks yet matched one other person in the room sat next to them.

The matching people in each chair were randomly placed from front to the back of the room, no particular choice where they were seated as they took what was available but – as written on a piece of paper pinned to another wall – sat in teams. Sat near the front of the room with the table pushed forwards a little to give him some extra room and wearing an ill fitting suit was Barney Green, a bottle of Rolling Rock in his grasp with a spare on the table in front of him while next to him wearing a dark t-shirt and a grey mask with deep holes for eyes and a long nose like Pinocchio after lying too many times was the second half of Green Order, the mysterious man known only as Ryou Bakari Itemri. The two sat in complete silence, Barney not caring about his surroundings and just staring straight ahead with that bottle forever in his hand and occasionally raised it to his lips to gulp down some of the alcoholic liquid inside.

Not too far away from Green Order was the team of Richard Fairplay and Matt Davis, also known as SkaFace. Fairplay was seated up close to his table, hunched over with a pen in his hand writing something down on a piece of paper, perhaps lyrics due to his nature as a vocalist and tendency to continue coming up with new lines, maybe crude drawings of some of the people occupying the room, only he knew and his partner knew. Next to the man with the Hawaiian shirt sat Matt Davis, bass player in the ska band he and Fairplay were in and unlike his tag team partner, wore something a little less bright and tasteless although further inspection of his t-shirt with a picture of Roman Steeler and the Scott Gray-Harris together along with the slogan “fag team champions” covering the front and the words “Romo-sexual” and “Scott Gay-Harris” plastered across the back seemed to show his insulting nature.

Team Excellence was comprised of Randal Williams and Jeff Starxxxx, an air of arrogance about them judging by their overall look and confidence in their in ring prowess, the two deep in conversation Starxxxx was pulling faces and generally waving his arms around as he spoke, laughing slightly louder than necessary and occasionally glancing at everybody else with a wide grin that showed a little arrogance and pandered to the others in the room as if maybe they’d all applaud him, give him a standing ovation purely for being present. As a stark contrast, Randal Williams tried to hide his face from the others, not wanting anybody to even be able to see him if possible, as if bound by a fear that a wrong look may set him off and a chair leg impaled in somebody’s chest or throat at random.

Two men who were confident, arrogant and not afraid to show that whether loved or hated were Lethal Weapon and his son, the BAFTA award winning actor turned professional wrestler Scott Gray-Harris. The two had their differences with each other and with other people in the past but lately had shown the world how talented they could be, shocking everybody with their athletic and unstoppable nature in the ring when they took each other on in front of thousands. Now as a team, people had high expectations of the pair but looking at them now, they certainly weren’t showing it. Scott had a slight smirk on his face while he looked around at the oddballs occupying the room alongside himself and his father while Lethal Weapon himself leant back in his chair, legs outstretched and hands resting on his stomach, clearly not bothered about being here and not curious as to why their presence was requested.

Another longtime veteran in Priest was seated next to his Last Rites tag team partner Erik Cade, the apparent “Man You Love to Hate”. There was nothing to hate about him right now as he sat peacefully, his long legs having difficulty staying under the table due to his height while the dog tags from his previous occupation in the armed forces hung from his neck and rested between his pectorals. Erik gently scratched at his beard while Priest seemed impatient, possibly wanting to leave this room and get on with better things he had in mind whilst also struggling with the lack of leg room. His staring gaze seemed eerie and frightening like you wouldn’t want to catch his eye even for a second in case the consequences were dire for distracting him.

One team who seemed to both want to stare at Priest out of curiosity and also avoid him knowing they were doing so were The Hit Squad. Roman Steeler and Vash the Stampede had indeed faced Priest many times both in singles matches, tag team matches and all kinds of variations and had come up short every single time. This would be the first time they would come up against the allegedly supernatural being in several years and even now they found him completely fascinating. Perhaps they were weighing up a potential game plan for the future to ensure they would actually defeat him or maybe his entire look and persona was interesting to them? Either way, they were sat like children, maybe the very children that normally occupied this classroom, with their fingers fiddling with their own clothing or hands as they watched Priest and occasionally glanced around at the other teams.

Catching his eye was the team of Seek and Destroy, two men who had waged war together and teamed up over the years, both of them related through marriage. They were also a massive tag team, Kevin Justice around the same height as Priest while Aerik Walker pushed the 7 feet mark, Kevin having formerly competed as a judge, no doubt bringing the gavel down on opponents he deemed unworthy of trying to defeat him, also calling himself the “Original Hellraiser”. Walker on the other hand was known as “The Silverwolf”, clearly taking pride in the veteran knowledge he brings to the table and his vast experience in the ring. He was also the “No Pain Train” for his ability to soak up punishment then dish out twice as much and indeed the size and power of this veteran team was certainly nothing to ignore.

The current champions Southern Blood were seated quietly and patiently at tables, wondering like everybody else why they were here. They’d only just gained the championships after spending months coming up short in tag team and singles matches, finally getting that one big win they’ve been looking for to propel them into the spotlight and thrusting themselves upon the conscience of everybody watching teams such as this. Jay Williams had partnered up with his brother Lance as part of a group that focused on the southern roots of all members despite the fact their newest mentor Eric Herrera was actually Mexican. It was a stark contrast to the values their other cousin Vincent had set the ground work for and tensions were high with Eric wanting to see a fire lit up underneath Jay and Lance while they instead tried to seek respect and earn glory through their hard work until they were taken in by fans and peers as two men worthy of the battles they waged.

The final team was situated at the back of the room, a female with dark hair and purple and black makeup smeared across her eyes and lips, looking evil and full of hatred and bile for everybody else in the room. She wore a corset and skirt, both of them black and purple in color and army surplus boots adorned her feet. Next to her was a monstrous looking being with his own army surplus boots and black coveralls covering his body from head to toe, long dark hair soaking wet and hanging like drapes down the front, sides and back of his head. In place of a face, a steel mask adorned his skull instead, showing no features save for a pair of eyes staring out from behind the mask, an almost demonic expression etched upon the steel with vertical slots where the mouth would be. This was of course the second generation psychopath Ambrosia, the Second Chapter of Absolution Reborn and alongside her was the hellacious Vitriol, both giving off a creepy and nightmarish vibe to the others in the room similar to their despicable acts since joining together as two with a shared common goal for chaos and anarchy.

All eyes turned towards the wooden door that led to this room, a glass window allowing a view of the shaven headed man in a dark suit fiddling with the door’s handle before pushing the door open, stepping inside the room and then closing the only exit to the room behind him. The teams all stared as this person began to stride confidently towards the blackboard, standing in front of it and looking out at the gathering of people before him behind each table. Clasping his hands together, he acknowledged everybody by scanning the room and ensuring that his gaze landed upon every single person sitting patiently and silently.

Man: I am Jacob Laymon and I’d just like to welcome all of you here today. Now as you know, every one of you is partnered up with somebody to form a tag team, a solid two person unit that works well together and shares both the glory and the knowledge that you have the best chemistry in the world.

Now, you may be wondering exactly why you’re all gathered in this classroom having been taken away from your respective stomping grounds and residencies. There is a very good reason for this and I hope you’re all ok with this. You see, because of the abundance of great teams forming or already established, I’ve decided that all of you should end this year on a high point, give yourselves the chance to prove just which of you is the best tandem by settling this via a little game I like to call…….Battle Royale.

The rules are simple. Each one of you has a collar around your necks.

Every single person in the room save for Jacob bring a hand to their throats as one, moving at the exact same time as they do indeed feel a black strap around their necks and throats, not too tightly so as to make it hard to breathe but tight enough to keep the straps around them without slipping. The front of the straps had a slight contusion, almost like a device had been attached to the strap but what was its purpose? Vitriol felt the device with his fingers before lowering his hand and cocking his head to the side, seeming to want to hear more about this strange object while his partner Ambrosia simply grinned and frowned all at once, looking even more evil than usual.

Others though weren’t so calm and cool about the situation, Randall Williams trying to tug at the strap while Jeff Sparxxxx looked worried, Barney Green on the other hand not even seeming to care and being more interested in his alcoholic beverage. Noticing the actions of several of the people in the room, Jacob cleared his throat loudly to catch everyone’s attention, waiting until all eyes were back on him again before continuing.

Jacob Laymon: I wouldn’t try to mess with the straps if I were you because they’re to help track your whereabouts but also will explode if they’re tampered with. That means tugging at them or trying to remove them will result in a charge ripping your throat open and your head to be destroyed.

At this announcement, most of the tag teams began to worriedly murmur and talk, looking at each other in confusion and panic, maybe trying to kid themselves that Jacob was playing mind games on them, all of this being a trick and a joke at their expense but his straight face revealed that it was entirely true. There were only a few who didn’t seem to pay any mind; the always silent Vitriol who was disturbing enough to perhaps enjoy such a measure and whose emotions couldn’t be figured out; Priest, who was strangely calm in his seat, perhaps even contemplating what might come to pass if such a thing were to happen; Ryou Bakari Itemri, his mask concealing his emotions but just drumming his fingertips against the table’s top which he was occupying; and finally Ambrosia, who seemed to show the only differing reaction to this information, rather than remaining quiet or trying to come to terms with this, she was in fact laughing in pure glee, enjoying the nature of the devices around everybody’s throats.

Lethal Weapon: This is bullshit Jacob!

Jacob Laymon: Bullshit? Really? It was decided upon to help find the true tandem, the best tag team in the world and if a device was tampered with or removed then it could lead to cheating and I can’t stand the thought of crowning the greatest with another unit still existing.

Richard Fairplay: Exist? Like stay alive?

Jacob Laymon: I can tell by the panic in your voice that the thought worries you? Well try not to because if SkaFace are truly the best tag team in the world then you’ll both be alive while the others aren’t. Simple as that really.

Lance Williams: We’re the champions though, we only just won that accolade and now we’re expected to kill the other teams to prove it?

Jacob Laymon: Pretty much yeah.

At once, all tag teams apart from Last Rites, Ambrosia and Vitriol and Green Order looked at one another, some with horrified expressions, others deep in conversation talking about how wrong this situation was, how this whole idea was a lesson in the type of desperation and power hungry despotism that Lethal Weapon had warned about in recent times. Waiting until everybody had settled down and gone silent, a voice from the front of the room plucked up and asked a question that a large number had tried not to even think about.

Ryou Bakari Itemri: Kill the other teams? How do we do it?

Jacob Laymon: That’s the beauty of the Battle Royale. Anything goes and whatever you have to hand will do, whether it’s your bare hands or some type of improvised weapon. It all depends on what you as teams wish to utilize in this game.

More murmurings amongst the teams sounded off as Jacob just looked around at everybody, taking delight in the interest this whole project devised by himself has caused, whether positive or negative. All nine teams sitting in this classroom were the very best and he had to sort them into a certain order and see which pairing really had the desire and the will to become the absolute best. Kevin Justice pushed the chair he was seated in back, rising up onto his feet and giving Jacob Laymon a look almost of defiance before turning to his taller partner Aerik Walker, watching as the giant like veteran stood next to him.

Kevin Justice: So tell us where to go and we’ll do this.

Nodding gently, Jacob pointed towards the door that led out into the corridor from whence they came earlier before taking their seats. Without needing confirmation, Kevin and Aerik marched past everybody else, yanking the door open and leaving, their footsteps echoing as they walked out ready to do battle. Following in the example set by Seek and Destroy, Priest is next to get up off his chair, gently nudging Erik Cade’s shoulder to get the big man up on his feet while Last Rites also walked out of the room, Erik having a quick glance at the other teams still in the room before following his partner out.

The other teams were soon to follow, leaving only the current champions Southern Blood and the sadistic Ambrosia and Vitriol still in the room. Southern Blood looked over at the remaining competition in the room and whispered to each other, trying to formulate something while also feeling more than a little unnerved by the hellish pairing staring at them. Gradually, the brothers stood up, tipping their cowboy hats to Ambrosia and Vitriol in a show of respect before leaving the room, Ambrosia sneering as they leave.
Ambrosia: Fucking teacher’s pets, teach this!

She raises her middle finger towards the door then sits back, remaining with Vitriol in the classroom while Jacob stands staring at them, looking bemused at their lack of motivation or interest in this game.

Jacob Laymon: What’s wrong, too good for my game?

Ambrosia: Isn’t it obvious we’re giving them a head start? Right here are two of the most dangerous and sadistic people you’ve ever seen and it wouldn’t be fair if we dissected all your other teams and bound your hands behind your back with their intestines within minutes of this little “game” of yours starting, would it?

Jacob smiled, shaking his head in total surprise at the blatant cockiness from this female, now sitting with one of her feet on top of the table, the laces of her army surplus boots casually hanging down the sides despite being knotted tightly. Ambrosia brings her hand up to play with her hair, twisting it around her finger as if waiting for a silent alarm clock to sound, Vitriol just seated next to her staring a hole through Jacob and causing him to feel slightly unsettled as if something bad were about to happen to him. That bad omen would present itself when, after what seemed like forever, Ambrosia moved her leg and rose to her feet, Vitriol doing the same as they walked to the front of the classroom.

As if he were like a rattlesnake quickly striking without warning and within seconds, Vitriol had clasped a hand around Jacob’s throat, pushing him with a superior strength against the blackboard leaving him struggling to escape the clutches of this masked monster. Ambrosia leaned closer, almost hissing in his ear.

Ambrosia: Feel free to greet us and personally congratulate us on winning this little game because coming up with something like this……well lets just say we are the master and mistress of mayhem. You’ve seen how twisted we can get but if you want to pretend to be the same then just like Priest and Michelle Richards, we’ll take pathetic little pretenders like you and truly show you sadistic. Daddy might enjoy me killing another worthless little promoter but I’m sure you’d rather I don’t.

Jacob could only stare as she walked away, Vitriol pushing further against Laymon’s throat before finally releasing his grip and turning to follow Ambrosia as she skips out of the open door. Jacob could only rubs his hand against his throat and neck, adjusting the collar of his shirt and shaking his head whilst smiling, bemused at the fact that two of his number could be so forward with their threats and physical warnings to the person who allowed them to work for him on television.

Making their way out of the door to a huge school building, empty and disused for a number of years judging by the flaky and run down outer shell of the building, Ambrosia continued to skip into the night air, Vitriol behind her with the moonlight casting an eerie light upon one side of his steel mask. Looking out into the atmosphere, Ambrosia raises her head towards the night sky and unleashes a loud scream, a sort of psychopathic battle cry to let the other teams know that she and Vitriol were on their way and ready to play this sordid little game created by Jacob Laymon to see who truly was the best tag team in the world.

Walking away from the school, the two didn’t get very far before they were distracted by a sudden noise to their left, turning and watching a thin shadow coming from behind a giant decorative stone marble, looking at another that was closer to them and realizing that there is nothing on these objects that could possibly form such a shadow as the one cast in the near distance. The two moved closer, silently like predators with no sound or movement detectable from their footsteps, growing ever closer to the stone marble and noticing that the long thin shadow emanating from it had a slight lump at its peak and seemed to come from behind the object rather than on it. It looked as if something or someONE was hiding behind it.

Ambrosia leapt at one side of the giant stone marble and released a loud shout that made someone dash out from behind the stone in terror, Vitriol catching the person quickly in his grasp and not letting go. Struggling to get away, he looks up at the mask of his captor, a sudden look of terror as he wriggles but finds himself unable to get away. With fists clenched tightly, the shorter haired member of SkaFace starts to pound at the arms of Vitriol, Ambrosia bemused as Matt Davis tries everything in his power to get this monster off him, getting angrier as the seconds go by and his attempts are made more futile as time progresses.

Matt Davis: Get the fuck off me you fucking freak!

The outburst came as a total surprise to both Vitriol and Ambrosia, stopping them dead in their tracks, Vitriol cocking his head slightly as he drinks in the image of Matt’s face while Ambrosia herself looked both shocked and appalled, that expression quickly turning into pure anger.

Ambrosia: Freak? FREAK?! Don’t you even know who you’re insulting, you obnoxious and insignificant parasite?

She sneers at Matt, biting at his cheek as trickles of blood form around the wound, Matt screaming out and only the sound of something roaring into life and coming closer halts the situation. All three look and spot Matt’s partner Richard Fairplay rushing towards them wielding a chainsaw, the motor running as the blades whir ready to cut into whatever it comes into contact with. With a quick swipe, Fairplay manages to catch Vitriol on the forearm, the masked man looking down at his limb and noticing that the sleeve of his coveralls has been cut slightly but otherwise he’s showing no sign of injury or pain.

Matt and Richard take a step backwards each, watching silently as the chainsaw’s motor provides the only sound until once again, Matt’s aggressive nature takes over and he clobbers Ambrosia in the face with a back elbow and throws punches at Vitriol, Fairplay watching and getting ready with the chainsaw, taking aim then swinging but Vitriol has Davis trapped by his arm, Fairplay too late to stop the momentum as the chainsaw continues its path. Matt Davis lets out a blood curdling shriek, staring in utter horror as Fairplay does the same thing, both staring at Matt’s lower arm lying on the ground still wriggling of its own accord, blood pumping both from the end of it as well as the stump on Matt’s body where the arm used to be attached just underneath the elbow.

The shock causes both members of SkaFace to freeze in unity, Ambrosia giggling to herself as she watches Vitriol take Matt’s face and drive it into the still whirring blade of the chainsaw, a screeching noise piercing the air as bone meets steel and blood splatters in all directions until the monster yanks the skull back and Matt Davis collapses dead, a gaping slice embedded in his head and face with blood leaking all over and forming a puddle on the ground around him. Richard Fairplay meanwhile turns and begins to throw up, vomiting perhaps every meal he’s ever eaten all over the ground, getting some all over his shoes.

Ambrosia: What’s wrong Dick, watching your partner die not an enjoyable experience for you? Mommy and daddy shield you away from the decent movies, only let you watch kindergarten shit like The Exorcist and Nightmare on Elm Street? Huh?

She plants a kick on the still twitching carcass of Matt Davis then turns and does the same to the back of Richard Fairplay’s knee, causing him to topple onto the ground, still vomiting and getting some all over his Hawaiian shirt.

Ambrosia: The only thing your tag team partner is good for now is a fucking magazine rack.

Fairplay looks up at her, catching her evil eye then notices Vitriol next to her, his gaze coming from behind that ominous steel mask and boring a hole into Richard’s nightmares. With a swift movement, Vitriol’s arm suddenly jerks back as the roar of the chainsaw bellows again, the masked monster releasing the cord and tossing this wood cutting device high into the air, stepping back and walking away alongside Ambrosia, Fairplay behind them still staring after them on his knees in a pool of vomit as suddenly the chainsaw makes its descent, the downward trajectory ensuring that the blade becomes embedded in the top of his skull sending brain matter and blood everywhere. His body falls to one side with the chainsaw still full of life in his cranium as the diabolical duo leave the area.

Not too far away from the school was a children’s playground, complete with wooden picnic table standing near a slide and some swings, a large man seated on the table with a bottle in his hand, taking huge gulps and not paying attention to the masked man and unusual female striding towards him. Getting closer, the two stared at Barney Green as he spotted them, nodding an acknowledgement of their presence but remaining silent to continue his drinking, an empty bottle resting on its side next to him and the one half empty in his hand seeming to be the second bottle he had with him in the classroom.

Ambrosia: Hey tubby, lost your partner already? Has this new guy you recruited to your dumb little cause deserted you like all the others before you’ve even teamed up together? Huh? Has he seen sense, realized how much of a liability you are and ran before you embarrass another tag team partner?

She laughed as Vitriol stood perfectly still slightly behind her, Barney just ignoring the taunts and being instead totally engrossed in his alcoholic beverage. Ambrosia becomes enraged by this blatant display of ignorance and dives at Barney, her much smaller frame not enough to take Barney down or even make much of a dent, the portly man shrugging her off as he continues to drink without so much as a drop spilled. Ambrosia tries again, this time with Vitriol joining in as they finally manage to pin Barney down to the table, this time his attention is fully on the pair as they fix menacing stares at him, Barney’s face showing an anxiety he hasn’t yet shown in matches or on television. Snatching the bottle away, Ambrosia stares at it in disgust then pinches Barney’s nose until he opens his mouth desperate for breath, using the opportunity to plunge the bottle into the orifice as the liquid inside gathers around the neck of the glass.

Ambrosia: DRINK PIGGY, DRINK!!

Barney splutters as the alcohol pours down his throat and overflows out of his mouth, dribbling onto his chin and face. Continuing her onslaught, Ambrosia pushes the bottle further and further as it slowly sinks down into the gullet of the larger man until the bottle is firmly stuck, the combination of glass bottle in the throat and alcohol forcefully pouring into his body causing Barney to turn bright blue and choke. His tag team partner Ryou Bakari Itemri makes a sudden and unexpected attack on Vitriol, the monster shrugging him off and leaving the two mask wearers to do battle while Ambrosia focuses on staring into the eyes of the panicking Barney Green, his hands attempting to pull the bottle out of his mouth but unable to do so. The aggressive woman just stares and whispers to him.

Ambrosia: Don’t you know that drinking kills?

Barney struggles and struggles but finds himself unable to retrieve the object from his mouth while his partner Ryou and Vitriol both exchange thundering right hands, Ambrosia turning around after tiring of Barney’s slow death and sitting cross legged on the table top, a keen interest in her own associate’s battle. Ryou uses his knack for the violent to fight dirty with Vitriol, striking all over his body and head and doing his best to avoid punching that steel mask knowing it might not affect him, a stiff punch directly to the groin doubles Vitriol over. Ambrosia winces and grabs at her own crotch in an act of mimicry then laughs, acting as a twisted cheerleader, Barney still spluttering behind her as she turns to him and looks as if she’s just stepped in something disgusting.

Ambrosia: Can’t you just fucking die already?

She shakes her head and turns back to the battle ensuing before her eyes, Vitriol having suckered Ryou in with his apparent pain at the groin shot but in actuality not feeling it, grabbing at the long nose of Ryou’s mask and slamming his other fist into the stomach time and time again, following with a vicious headbutt that staggers Ryou. He takes a few steps backwards and removes his mask, tossing it to the ground to reveal his short dark hair and goatee beard crawling from his chin to across his upper lip. Ambrosia again looks disgusted and spits onto the floor as if she had a bad taste in her mouth at the willing unmasking of Ryou, Barney’s tag partner clenching his fists and daring Vitriol to come and get him again.

Vitriol only obliges, stepping forward with hands raised high, ready to duke it out, Ryou with a sickening smile.

Ryou Bakari Itemri: I am the Collector of Sins and tonight, I will collect the hundreds of sins committed by first you and then her.

He points towards Ambrosia, which prompts her to poke her tongue out in defiance, Ryou showing courage in the face of such evil. He moves towards the masked man but suddenly backs off when he looks at Vitriol, spotting the device worn around his neck in the masked monster’s hand after Vitriol had somehow snatched it from Ryou quickly. Ambrosia squeals in delight as the unmasked and so-called “most violent man in the history of wrestling” shows an uncharacteristic look of sudden terror, Vitriol examining the device with the curiosity of a small child before tossing it towards Ryou, watching as Barney’s partner has no choice but to catch it before fumbling as it explodes in his face, taking Ryou’s hands and half of his face off.

He drops down, dead before he hit the ground, Ambrosia doing the same as she leaps off the table and squats down by Ryou, disappointment seeping from her as she stares at the bloody mess and pieces of exposed muscle tissue and bone that used to be Ryou’s visage.

Ambrosia: You looked better with the mask on……although this is also an improvement.

She looks up at Vitriol then climbs up to her feet, taking him by the hand and leading him away from the playground, the monster just walking at his own pace while Ambrosia skips and swings her and Vitriol’s arms to and fro in a child-like manner. They managed to move across a formerly busy road, winding through the streets of this place that felt creepy and a little too silent, the fate of whoever once lived, worked and occupied this place long gone for reasons that were unknown. It was then that a tiny stone bounced off the shoulder of Vitriol, causing him to stop and look in the direction it came from, Ambrosia’s body and arm being jerked to a standstill, which caused her to stare at him.

Ambrosia: What? What is it?

Her line of vision followed that of Vitriol’s, the pair staring at an African American standing 30 yards away looking confident and posing with his index fingers pointed up towards his own face. It was Jeff Sparxxxx, one half of the alleged Team Excellence, exuding cockiness from every pore as he stood there acting as if he were surrounded by thousands of cheering onlookers, a slight wave to invisible fans causing the duo to stare at this strange creature. It was almost as if Jeff were doing this on purpose to distract them from whate……

Jeff Sparxxxx: BOOYA!

The shout came seconds after his associate Randal Williams had rushed out behind Vitriol, diving at the monster with a tackle that knocked him forwards, quickly on his feet and going for Ambrosia as she stands awaiting it, daring him to attack her. Randal strikes her in the mouth, causing a trickle of blood to form which doesn’t seem to hurt Ambrosia than merely excite her at the fact she’d been punched hard in the face. Randal hits another, knocking Ambrosia down onto her back but again she merely laughs it off, infuriating Williams while Jeff watches and decides to participate.

Jeff Sparxxxx: Hey Randy, don’t get crazy bro, remember the code you got.

Randal Williams: I’m cool, help me take care of this bitch then we can go after the masked freak.

The pair approach Ambrosia, both smiling at what punishment they may inflict upon her but Ambrosia has the last laugh, grabbing at a rock lying on the road nearby and tossing it, Jeff raising his hand to his face as the piece of rubble connects directly on his cheekbone, breaking the skin and potentially cracking or even breaking the bone underneath. Randal stares at his partner, then turns to look towards Ambrosia, silently seething as she pouts and sits up, playing with her hair.
Ambrosia: Aww, what’s the matter Randal? Gonna cry?

He becomes angrier by the second, his fists shaking as if he wants to pound the living daylights out of whatever his fists can find, the daughter of the sadistic Zolomon looking as if she’s excited at the prospect of getting this man so incensed, so far gone into an incandescent rage that he’s unable to stop himself. That was the kind of maniacal debasing of the human soul she thrived upon, having seen it with her father, learned to cope with it herself and having found a kindred spirit in Vitriol who was also willing and very much able but would Randal Williams fall into the same fate?

Ambrosia: Come on Randal, break it. Break your pathetic little moral code.

She dared him, spurring him on to go against everything he’d been taught, Randal coming close to giving in to her demands and letting go. The sound of a gasp behind him caused Randal to turn around, watching as Vitriol scooped Jeff Sparxxxx up from behind and placed him across the monster’s shoulders, dropping down onto one side and Jeff’s head and neck collided with the asphalt of the road, a crunch betraying the breaking of his spine courtesy of Burn in Hell. This seemed to be a further provocation to Randal, testing his absolute limits as Vitriol stood up and stamped on the head of the now lifeless Team Excellence member.

With a scream of wildly furious anger, Randal finally rushed towards Vitriol, daring to step toe to toe with this monster not because of the death of his partner but mainly because of the futility he saw in standing alone against something so destructive as Vitriol and Ambrosia, snapping as the only way he can survive. Vitriol however had other ideas, waiting until the time was right and driving a headbutt into the face of Williams to stop him dead in his tracks, Ambrosia now off her feet and using every strength within her to lift Randal on her shoulders, dropping him down to the ground hard as he begins to feel some tingling sensations all over. The punishment isn’t done yet though, Ambrosia finding the rock she threw with the sharp end and placing it underneath Randal’s face before grabbing his arms and placing the sole of her boot upon him, a vicious curb stomp splitting his skull against the rock as she claims yet another victim.

From out of the shadows of the tall buildings lining this street come the pairing of Erik Cade and Priest, two giants who are more than capable physically of dissecting the competition with their bare hands if necessary. Ambrosia and Vitriol are taken by complete surprise by this assault, both raising a gigantic foot each as they slam the soles into the back of Vitriol’s head, knocking him down to the ground. Ambrosia watches on, taken aback but quickly snapping into the brutality and fearlessness instilled in her by her father, attacking Last Rites wildly with arms and fists swinging, planting kicks to their legs and doing sufficient damage to Erik’s knee, Priest on the other hand not feeling the effects just as much and drilling his fist into her face, taking her down hard.

Rather than beg for mercy or try to escape, she lies there laughing maniacally with her legs kicking out at the shins and knees of both men, still going by the creed that any strike she lands on them is better than doing nothing at all. Two massive shadows loom over Ambrosia as she lies there kicking at Last Rites, paying no mind to the fact she’s being covered completely in darkness, Priest and Cade backing off slightly as they look at the cause of the shadows. Ambrosia stares at them then looks up, hanging her own head back to stare upside down at the just as large figures of Aerik Walker and Kevin Justice, collectively known as Seek and Destroy.

The two veterans smile at their much smaller foe, cracking their knuckles and approaching, Ambrosia not seeming to care and waiting to see what they’ll do to try and get rid of her, completely surprised when the two step over her to square up to Last Rites. The two teams stand toe to toe with those who share their height, Priest rolling his eyes to the back of his head while Kevin Justice stares and next to them, Aerik and Erik with a fit of laughter, not finding anything particularly funny and merely appreciating the situation they were in currently. Accepting that perhaps the need to take out the larger foes was more of a necessity than getting rid of Ambrosia and Vitriol due to the fact both were smaller and Ambrosia certainly seemed more vulnerable and easier to target.

After what seemed an age of squaring up to each other, the shots came thick and fast, punches aimed at each other with some connecting, some not, all of this watched by Ambrosia with amusement, clapping her hands in joy as blood and even one or two teeth fly from this monstrous battle of epic proportions. Vitriol begins to rise to his feet, jumped by The Hit Squad from nowhere as they attempt to use the bigger men fighting as their chance to obliterate the masked monster for themselves. Roman and Vash grip the coveralls of the monster and pound with the forearms and fists upon the head and back, Vitriol trying to fight them off until eventually gripping their clothes and pulling them together, heads knocking against one another as they stagger but still have a slight hold on Vitriol’s clothing.

Using this to his advantage, Vitriol swings his left arm and powers Roman towards the goliaths doing battle not too far away, Aerik missing a big boot to the chest of Cade as he sidesteps, Steeler bearing the brunt of the kick to his face due to his smaller height. Vash meanwhile grabs Vitriol’s arm and twists it around, trying to break it with a hammerlock unaware that the devious Ambrosia is tip-toeing in a circle to sneak behind him, making a rush to the back of Vash, wrapping her arms around his waist and also around the waist of Vitriol in a sort of Heimlich maneuver to both of them. Using the hidden strength she inherited from her father, Ambrosia is able to lift both off their feet for a double atomic drop that loosens Vash’s grip on Vitriol’s arm and allows her the chance to perform a Lungblower to Vash with both he and Vitriol taken down, Ambrosia sacrificing her own tag team partner’s balance to cause suffering to Vash the Stampede.

With Ambrosia and Vitriol getting to their feet, the pair look at Vash the Stampede, placing well timed kicks to his back and ribs to prevent him catching his breath while behind them, Roman Steeler is being passed around the giants, each rocking him with a punch before he topples over and Last Rites once again turn their attentions to Seek and Destroy. That was the moment that Ambrosia decided she’d interject herself into the fray once again, a glutton for punishment and enjoying every minute she’s made to suffer.

She calmly walks over and lands a sharp kick with her boot to the back of Priest’s knee, Vitriol also doing the same to the other leg as Aerik slams an elbow to Erik’s face to stagger him, gripping him with an arm as Kevin Justice takes a few steps backwards then charges, spearing Cade as Walker drops him hard with an STO, the move known as the Painseeker and certainly living up to that with Cade clutching at his back after landing on the hard asphalt as well as the surges of pain converging on his stomach and back of his head. Priest meanwhile is shaking off both Vitriol and Ambrosia, pushing them away as Roman and Vash, now standing but still looking hurt, line up and connect with WHACKED, the double superkick to the jaw of Vitriol’s mask sending him onto his back.

Vash the Stampede kneels down and places his hand on the steel mask of Vitriol, using his other to repeatedly punch it while Priest uses his supernatural powers to create a bolt of lightning that lands directly on the mask, sending a massive charge of electricity coursing through the mask as Vash jolts and fries from the voltage. His still smoking corpse collapses to the floor with Vitriol also unmoving, Priest with a sickening smile then turns towards Kevin Justice, daring him to come again for another fist fight. Justice obliges, a brawl ensuing until Aerik Walker helps his partner, only halted when Ambrosia slams an uppercut into his groin. Vitriol meanwhile shows signs of life and rises to his feet, a headbutt to the spine of Justice causes him a degree of misery while Roman attempts to attack Priest. This only enrages the bigger man as he blocks another shot and traps Steeler with nowhere left to run.

Roman squirms in Priest’s grasp, receiving a knee to the midsection then placed in a powerbomb position, Steeler being lifted onto Priest’s shoulders as Erik Cade grips Roman’s throat, the two driving the smaller man down hard with the Viaticum then watching as Vitriol raises a concrete slab high above his own head. A scream echoes in the night sky as all eyes other than Vitriol’s turn to a half broken and demolished building, Ambrosia standing atop the rubble grinning then leaping off, her feet landing on the concrete slab as Vitriol drops it hard with the force from both of them along with Ambrosia’s weight upon it crushes Roman Steeler’s head and face underneath, a sickening crunch as bone is destroyed and blood splatters out of the sides along the road.

Ambrosia performs a little dance around the body while once again, Erik Cade is back to his feet, taking advantage of the assault Vitriol had laid on Kevin Justice and picking him onto his shoulders, lifting him higher then throwing him, where he lands Cade simply doesn’t care. Kevin Justice crumples to the ground, slumped against a wall having had his spine crushed upon impact when his neck collided with the edge, Cade pummeled by forearms to the back as Aerik Walker looks for revenge. The two brawl for all their worth, moving away from the scene of bloodshed and death and towards another wall in the very near distance, slightly higher than the one which took Kevin’s life. Exchanging punches, the two continued their fight before locking horns and struggling to get the better using pure brute strength alone, the two throwing each other over that wall, little realizing it was a protective barrier and that they’d thrown each other off the side of a bridge, colliding head first onto the concrete far below in a heap of broken bodies and blood.

Priest meanwhile was doing what he’d had to become used to in recent memory, having to fight off both Vitriol and Ambrosia, not waiting patiently for their attack and instead taking the fight to them. The two took the shots as Priest found himself tiring the more energy he exerted trying to punish these two for the things they’d done and said regarding him and his family. After taking a particularly tough punch to the mask, Vitriol instantly let fly with a blow of his own to Priest, allowing the big man to feel his own brain rattle slightly in his head while Ambrosia herself aimed her shoulder with Priest’s gut and slammed it hard, Vitriol finding a metal rod and placing it so that it stands upright within a crack in the road, looking at Ambrosia as the two share the same idea.

Dragging Priest towards the rod, they leap into the air at the same time, both gripping Priest’s head and shoulder as they raise their knees either side of his face, pulling him down with Psycho-Analysis that not only drives their joints into his face but also brings him down onto the metal rod, both Vitriol and Ambrosia on their backs looking at Priest kneeling on the ground with the metal rod impaled through his face and poking out from the back of his skull.

Voice: Well well well, what do we have here?

The southern drawl of Lance Williams rings out, catching the attention of Ambrosia and Vitriol as they climb to their feet, staring as Southern Blood watch their every move. Without warning, Vitriol and Ambrosia both rush at Southern Blood, Vitriol diving at Jay to hit a spear but missing and connecting with a solid wall while Ambrosia proves to be more successful, almost taking Lance’s head off with a vicious yakuza kick that sends him flying backwards into the same wall. Not finished with him yet, she removes his hat and raises her right leg into the air, placing the hat onto her foot then stomping across the torso and face of Lance with his own headwear, all the while Ambrosia clenching her teeth in pure spite before stopping and tossing the hat away. Jay Williams meanwhile caught the assault and his temper flared while she turned to look at him.

Ambrosia: Come and get it then you banjo plucking Deliverance extra.

Jay charged, wanting to get to Ambrosia while she bent her knees and outstretched her arms, grinning wildly and waiting for whatever he wished to do in revenge for her taking down and hurting his brother. Vitriol simply knelt down on one knee, watching while Ambrosia stepped aside with her arms in front of Jay, catching his around the waist and using his momentum to spin herself around on her heels and raise him off his feet, aiming directly for Vitriol’s knee as Jay Williams crashed down after receiving Scarokinesis. Ambrosia let go of Jay’s body and watched as he lay across Vitriol’s knee, the monster taking a curious look at this southerner resting back upon him, long hair hanging down almost touching Jay’s face. After a few short moments, Vitriol had dragged Jay so that he was standing up again, Vitriol’s arm the only thing propping him up as one half of the champions is lifted off his feet and driven down hard across the knee for a second time, a loud snap heard that left Jay croaking then falling limp.

Ambrosia: I think you broke his back with that.

Vitriol stared into the wide-open and lifeless eyes of Jay Williams, gently shoving him off his knee as the champion collapses in a crumpled heap. The monster rises to his feet as the diabolical duo turn their sights onto Lance, just beginning to move after the impact of having Ambrosia’s knees driven into his back and causing him to struggle to breathe. With him rolling onto his stomach to try and use his arms to push himself off the ground, Ambrosia rushed over, leaping into the air and placing the sole of her boot squarely into his back to push him back down and eat dirt.

Laughing as she stomps away at Lance Williams, Ambrosia straddles his back as he struggles to try and get her off and rise to his feet, the Second Chapter of Absolution Reborn gripping the collar of his shirt with one hand and waving the other in the air.

Ambrosia: YEEEEEHAAAAAAAW!!!

Finally tiring of her little game and noticing that Lance was running out of energy, Ambrosia reached into her boot and removed a small pocket knife, flicking it open and staring at the blade before running her tongue along the edge of it. She turns to stare at Vitriol then looks at Lance lying prone and helpless. With a calmness that purveys her psychopathic nature, Ambrosia holds down Lance’s head, watching as Vitriol moves closer and kneels to help by using both hands, causing her to smile at him as a silent way o thanks before using her own hands to hold Lance’s neck and begin cutting at the skin.

Ambrosia: Lets see if this motherfucker really is a redneck.

The knife blade cuts into the flesh and begins to peel it like a potato, Lance’s muffled screams heard as Ambrosia slices away at the back of his neck. She almost seems to be gently humming to herself as she cuts away at the skin like a little girl making something for an arts and crafts project until finally she has a big piece of skin in her hand and Lance’s neck truly is red from the copious amount of blood spilling onto the ground and the flesh and muscle underneath, now exposed to the elements. Almost giggling, Ambrosia rises and walks around to Lance’s head, Vitriol releasing it and standing back while his partner kicks at the remaining member of Southern Blood left alive then grips his hair, pulling his face up off the ground and running the knife across his throat.

Lance stares in shock, the blow swift but only leaving a slight stinging sensation like a shaving cut, the blood seeping out as if a faucet within Lance’s throat had suddenly been turned on. The two watched as he tried to bring a hand to his neck to try and stem the bleeding but was too weak to do so, lying on the ground to conserve the last of his energy with his throat rested against his forearm in a futile attempt to make it cease. Vitriol had other ideas, roughly turning him over onto his back, the blood both pumping out of the slit in his skin and also in some small doses falling back into his throat, gurgling sounds as Lance’s lifeblood slowly drips away and disappears. Ambrosia with another nudge using her foot, making sure Lance was dead before running a fingertip against his throat and staring at the drops of blood she’d picked up, licking it from her digit and frowning slightly as she tries to pinpoint the taste.

Ambrosia: Hmmm....tastes like KFC.

Leaving the Southern Blood members lying dead on the ground, Ambrosia and Vitriol stride off away from this area, leaving behind the grass of the park and stepping onto the asphalt of the abandoned road, following it north and looking for their final victims. The so called Lethal Coalition must be the only ones left unless another tag team had killed them, ended their lives while this pair were busy taking care of the others. That must be why the devices around their necks hadn’t ceased functioning, still feeling as if they could spring into life and explode any moment, the exact same way as they’d seen with Ryou Bakari Itemri.

They walked alongside each other silently, Vitriol his usual subdued and quiet self while Ambrosia is cautious, trying not to make a sound in case they let anybody nearby gain the knowledge that they were approaching. Without warning, something seemed to catch Vitriol’s attention, turning his head to his right in time to see Lethal Weapon rushing towards him wielding a tire iron in both hands, slamming it into the steel mask and staggering the monster backwards. Ambrosia watches as Vitriol takes another shot to the mask but can’t stand back in shock for long when Scott Gray-Harris shoves her to the ground roughly, kicking at her body as she tries to block the blows with her forearms and curls up in the fetal position.

With one last strike, Lethal Weapon finally takes down Vitriol, watching as the masked monster falls thanks to the vicious and repetitive blows to the mask courtesy of the tire iron. When steel has finished striking against steel, Lethal Weapon stands almost victorious gripping the weapon tightly and keeping his eyes fixed on the silent harbinger of pain and destruction, perhaps too engrossed in looking at his victim rather than keeping an eye on his son and his old enemy’s daughter. His lack of focus on the two means that Lethal Weapon doesn’t notice when Ambrosia drives her knife deep into the leg of the actor, his kicking being halted as he grabs at his shin.

Scott clutches at the area as Ambrosia twists the knife then yanks it out hard, causing him to scream out and catch Lethal Weapon’s attention, watching helplessly as the sick female kneels and jabs the blade straight up and under the chin of Scott Gray-Harris, his mouth opening in pain as the shimmering steel blade glistens with crimson liquid dripping down it and pooling underneath his tongue. A harsh tug brings the knife tearing through Scott’s flesh to cause a massive rip along his jaw line, blood splashing down onto the ground and spattering onto Ambrosia. She removes the knife and drags Scott-s body down next to her, holding the back of his head with one hand and his chin in the other, smiling at Lethal Weapon and putting on a twisted ventriloquist act using his son’s dead body, moving the jaw up and down as she speaks for Scott.

Ambrosia: Look dad, I’m a famous actor. I can beat you any day of the week, I just need one swift blow with The Bafta to your Golden Globes then I can pretend to be a big, tough guy like you too. You’re nothing compared to Zolomon though, I wish I had a daddy like him instead of a pathetic piece of shit like you.

Lethal Weapon stares at Ambrosia, beginning to shake with rage at her actions before charging and striking her with the tire iron she’d thrown at him before. Ambrosia immediately holds her shoulder upon impact and looks at Lethal Weapon, looking innocent and hurt.

Ambrosia: Ow, I’m a woman, why did you hit me?

Ignoring her pleas, Weapon swings the tire iron again, smashing it into the side of her head as she falls down to the ground before pinning her to the cold floor, holding the tire iron to her throat while Ambrosia just stares up at him.

Ambrosia: Please don’t kill me uncle Lethal, I’m only a little girl.

Weapon sneers in her face, leaning closer as this action puts more pressure on the tire iron which only further blocks off the oxygen supply of this psychopathic woman.

Lethal Weapon: I’m not going to kill you, at least not yet, I want to watch you suffer for murdering my son, leave your daddy childless like you made me.

Despite the heavy steel handle pushed against her throat, Ambrosia was still able to croak out a few words through her twisted and sick smile.

Ambrosia: Oooh, death by....Lethal injection.... I like the sound of that....Be gentle though....

Angered by her mocking, Lethal Weapon connects with a vicious slap to her face but his enjoyment of Ambrosia’s punishment is short lived, his face going bright red and his teeth clenched tightly while his head lifts up backwards. Ambrosia watches and notices a sliver of wire stretching across Lethal Weapon’s throat, wrapped tightly around the fists of Vitriol as he kneels on her assailant’s lower back and pulls back with all of his strength. Lethal Weapon attempts to raise his hands to his neck to try and relieve the pressure but Ambrosia is quick to get up off the floor and crouch next to him, pulling one of his arms up above his head followed by the other, his upper limbs twisted with Ambrosia hugging them for dear life and sneering in his face.

Ambrosia: You think you’re so violent and dangerous? Killing a man in the ring makes you somehow special? What you’re going through right now is the type of thing my dad taught me to enjoy all those years ago, that last look into the eyes of a condemned man, knowing he’s about to die any second. Your end’s coming and you know it and I want you to look into my eyes as you slip away.

She watches, a lopsided and evil grin forming on her face as Lethal Weapon’s eyes move to look out of the corners, trying to focus on this young sadist’s staring and makeup laden eyes through his own watery vision, tears streaming down his face due to the lack of oxygen and difficulty escaping. With one last gulp, Lethal Weapon gurgled before his efforts to escape and his struggling cease, Ambrosia watching as her father’s old enemy falls limp and lifeless. Vitriol pulls back on the wire a little more to make sure the deed is done before releasing the wire and dropping him face first to the ground. Ambrosia nudges the body with her foot gently, making sure Lethal Weapon really is dead before spitting on him and frowning in disgust.

Ambrosia: Piece of shit. The only true lethal weapons are Vitriol and I you egotistical cunt.....




Teaching Life's Lessons.....


A static filled opening followed by grainy footage opens and provides a view of the interior of a van, Ambrosia seated in the driver’s side behind the steering wheel while in the back, Vitriol is visible with his mask aimed down at something, almost as if he’s staring at an object nearby. There’s no sign that the engine is running or that the van is moving in any way but the webcam still remains focused, Ambrosia staring at it and running her tongue along the inside of her mouth as shuffling and movement is made audible inside the van.

Ambrosia: Welcome fans and freaks to another edition of Hollyweird, a very special episode since this deals with a number of issues. First of all though, let me welcome you to somebody you might have seen at my side over the past few weeks, a monster in every sense of the word after my own heart. In fact, he could probably rip it right out of my chest without flinching while I enjoy my last breath but please put your hands, real, prosthetic or otherwise together and welcome my masked marvel, my crown prince of chaos…..VITRIOL!!

She reaches forwards to grab the webcam and move it to the left slightly so that Vitriol can be seen a little more, the monster just looking towards it with no sound or emotion, the darkness of the camera’s filter and brightness features not having been tampered with along with the shadowy area in the back of the van giving the impression that Vitriol doesn’t have eyes, rather they look like dark holes as if his face was made entirely of shadow.

Ambrosia: And I am Ambrosia, the Second Chapter of Absolution Reborn, my father’s daughter and…..as Vitriol likes to call me…..the harlequin of hardcore.

She grins excitedly as if almost pleased and flattered by the nickname although quite how Vitriol had named her anything when he never speaks or makes a sound is something entirely odd and strange, two adjectives that could certainly sum up this pairing very easily.

Ambrosia: Now, like I said, this edition is special because I’ve managed to secure....

She looks over her shoulder towards Vitriol.

Ambrosia: He is secured right? No running away?

Vitriol nods his response and gently tugs on something, which causes Ambrosia to look pleased before turning back to the camera.

Ambrosia: I’ve managed to secure somebody who is a representation of everything that I hate, Vitriol hates, you perverted viewers who regularly tune in hates....a jock who thinks he’s God’s gift to women and the world everywhere.

She gets out of the seat and grabs at the camera, pulling it off the dashboard and bringing it with her as she climbs over the seat into the back of the van. Pointing it down, we see Vitriol kneeling looking at an object that appears to be slightly large, moving gradually as Ambrosia gets a close up view of a person with hands tied behind their back with rope, legs bound together at the ankles by plastic cord. Ambrosia’s tattooed forearm comes into shot to reach at this person with outstretched fingers before shaking the body vigorously, the person moving more and looking at her, revealing that it is Jeff, the man kidnapped on the empty highway. Without warning, Ambrosia’s hand smacks at his face and head repeatedly, causing Jeff to flinch and try to move his skull away to avoid further beating.

Instantly reacting to this man’s attempts to move away, Vitriol grabs at the man’s hair, tugging it, almost ripping it out by the roots, to sharply bring Jeff’s face back into view, Vitriol staring then attacking with a headbutt that smashes into Jeff’s brow. Snapping his own head back so that he is upright again, Vitriol’s hair whips back against his spine and shoulders while a cut releases a trickle of blood above Jeff’s eye, Ambrosia again slapping Jeff in the face repeatedly to catch his attention as she holds the camera pointedly at their kidnap victim’s face.

Ambrosia: So, gonna tell the viewers what your name is?

Jeff: HEEEELP!!!

Ambrosia: Ok Mr HEEEELP!!!....

She screams the word in the same manner as he did in a mocking tone…..

Ambrosia: ....gonna tell them your first name because it’ll get pretty boring if you keep screaming that, and regular viewers of Hollyweird know what happens when I get bored.

Jeff: Don’t you know who I am? My father is one of the most powerful businessmen on Wall Street and has connections that could…

She slaps him hard in the face to silence him then gives another harsh beating for being so uncooperative, insubordinate and arrogant.

Ambrosia: No, I couldn’t give a shit who you are....but let me ask you……do you watch professional wrestling Mr HEEEELP!!!?

The screech almost damages Jeff’s eardrums, his head trying to move back to get away from the potentially deafening voice as it rebounds on the insides of the van, the sound coming back just as quickly as it hits the steel casing of the vehicle’s body.

Jeff: Wrestling? No, that’s so gay, why would I watch men roll around oiled up in speedos?

The statement caused a stir within her, Vitriol watching and knowing that as much as he’d like to punish this spoiled brat, this young man who had clearly been given the world whenever he demanded it instead of showing respect for anything other than himself, Ambrosia was more than capable of dealing with the likes of him in her own inimitable way. She does this by pouncing, wrapping her hands around his throat and choking the life out of him as he panics and attempts to fight her off but unable to due to the restraints. Once she’s suitably satisfied at the oxygen deprivation Jeff has suffered thus far, she releases him and sits back smiling and sneering in his face.

Ambrosia: So clearly you don’t know who I am then either and that’s the beauty of it because neither does Lethal Weapon. See, he’s just an old man who outstayed his welcome, trying to retain his last shot of glory....thing is, he’s played that out for the last few years. Do you know what it’s like living in my world? I bet this is the part where you think I’m going to whine and cry like a little baby about how misunderstood I am, how it sucks to have to live with this burden of insanity. You’d be wrong though because that’s so unlike me, even if you’d like to think it is.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret Lethal. I enjoy my state of mind, I thrive on it and you know why? It’s because it makes things just a little more....fun! The thrill I get from pain, thinking outside the box and seeing things the way a normal....more sane person if you will....couldn’t, it helps me do the things I love to do without a second thought, without something as meaningless and annoying as a conscience stopping me.

You can kid yourself that I’m just a silly little girl crying out for attention but tell me Lethal Weapon, oh glorious legend that you like telling people you are, which one of us is really trying to be something we’re not? Hmm? I really shouldn’t have to explain myself, especially to the likes of you but....that’s why you’ve always been so ignorant isn’t it? Always about you, how big and tough and legendary you are. Which of us is trying to live out glory off the back of family? It’s certainly not me because while I am a woman of my circumstances, you on the other hand need to rely on your superficial past to keep yourself in memory, I on the other hand don’t care whether I’m in the spotlight or not as long as Vitriol and I are having fun.

I’d like to congratulate you though for spending an obsessive amount of time talking about little old me…….it’s flattering really…….I mean, who wouldn’t want to talk about the destruction we’ve caused, the lives we’ve changed for the better with our advice on how to better themselves by not being so fucking human with all of the errors they make when they allow themselves to think and feel like the world is conditioned to do already. Then again, most of them just run away and have nightmares about what we did to them……that’s if they’re able to get away still breathing and alive.

But really Lethal Weapon, do you really want to stoop to levels such as name calling and trying to make fun of people and their names? Is that really what you have to do to fit in and still be seen as relevant in professional wrestling when nobody really wants you around any more? Your son I could understand because he’s clearly been brainwashed by the tapeworms who populate the acting profession and has spent his life surrounded by clueless people who live in the fantasy world the rest of society knows and has never seen the true visions of horror that Vitriol and I admire and surround ourselves with but you……..for a man who names himself after a Mel Gibson and Danny Glover movie and puts on a fake persona like he’s somebody to be feared because of some sort of alleged technical mastery and cerebellum……..tell me Lethal Weapon, does the accidental death of Luke Tanner haunt you, give you nightmares and make you dread going to sleep?

That’s the difference between us....you accidentally killed a man inside the ring and spent your life since that moment regretting it and trying to run away from that, ensure that you have “one last run” like all the other washed up geriatrics just so that the small minded will forget all about that little black mark against your career and your life and have the last thing you’re remembered for being your attempt to recapture some sort of gold. See, the sane mind is all about obtaining goals like that, scratching and clawing their way to obscene amounts of success and going by the rules to stop yourself being halted, keeping yourself on side with the bosses so they can hand out unnecessary title shots to the likes of you.

That would explain your little indiscretion last Mayhem against your son, trying to go all out to put on a match of epic proportions instead of just simply doing Malakai Laymon’s job for him and finishing the job he started with his brother. Let me ask you though, would you really do that, get violent with Jacob? I mean, of course you wouldn’t because he gave you a job when everybody else blackballed you and Luke’s death still follows you day after day. Not very lethal then are you if something like that can affect you so much when I’ve watched people dying in every way possible throughout my life. I can happily watch a black market copy of the Armin Meiwes videotape with a smile on my face, laughing as two men prove to be a lot less cowardly and pathetic as you and your son. I’ve willingly and knowingly did things to others that would make the likes of you vomit in disgust but I don’t dwell on those actions……I just move onto the next chapter and find more fun.

Funny how children sometimes share a trait of their dominant parent, I inherited the oh so real ideals of my father while your son Scott Gray-Harris got your ignorance and need to always be in the spotlight, always seen and heard even if people don’t want to listen or see him. Both of you criticized that tandem that is Vitriol and I and yet neither of you really have any idea about either of us. You both mentioned the fact that Vitriol is a certain height, deemed him as what……a midget? This is where you and I differ because I see Vitriol as the crown prince of chaos, the avatar of destruction and the means to MCW’s end yet you two see him as nothing more than a dwarf who belongs in those Leprechaun movies or The Wizard of Oz…..correct?

That’s where you’d both be wrong though because let me put this to you both in clear and concise words that you’d both understand……John Wayne Gacy was five foot three……Jeffrey Dahmer was less than six feet tall…….the Marquis De Sade was a VERY short man……the height of a man is not as important as the depths of his depravity. You both seem to have a convoluted and frankly cliché ideology of what monsters should look like thanks to horror movies that portray the biggest threats to human life as hulking beasts of a similar size and height as my father.

You couldn’t be further from the truth because the true monsters, the sick and depraved monsters I mentioned and many more like them…….they were small, unassuming……their sickening acts causing an even more intense bout of fear and dread and terror upon society that the quiet person next door might force them to watch as their own internal organs are plucked from their body, roasted on an open fire, force fed down their throats and then mutilated beyond all recognition. Look at it this way, considering his so-called “small stature”, considering you mentioned others such as Dante and Priest who have the height you seem to associate with the most dominating and twisted creatures………why then is Vitriol’s name spoken of as the representation of a true monster?

That is something you two would never understand. Vitriol’s height lures ingrates like you into a false sense of security, making you foolish enough to not see him as the threat he is until its too late and you hear the lullaby of the demented whispered into your ears mere moments from your destruction. We team because we share a similar goal even if the goal is to live moment by moment, second by second and cause as much anarchy and chaos as possible wherever we go. The fragile mental state we share gives us a bond that will never be crushed by such hollow and empty words, allows us to frolic in the insanity that surrounds us and see where we end up.

Does it really look like we need to be carbon copies of something we’re not…..do we really need to spend days thinking of every idea possible before going over a checklist and picking out which would suit our needs best? No? That’s funny because from the sounds coming out of your mouths as well as Roman Steeler’s, that’s apparently what we did although I’d like to thank you all for informing me because…..oops……I must have forgotten.

From what I’ve seen and heard and remembered, apparently Vitriol and I are boring and unoriginal and should fade into obscurity because “no one cares what we do and we’ll only end up against each other for months anyway”. Is that so? Hmm? Weird because as far as I know, Vitriol is my equal and even my father approves of him joining my side, this thing is forever until one of us stops breathing. But for two people who “no one cares about”……the Hollyweird hit counter keeps on rising and our actions have caused quite the stir. Is it because more people were concerned about us trying to crucify Michelle Richards and then attempting to burn her alive when we were interrupted and not about the sleep inducing game of father and son Patti cake you two indulged in?

It’s nice you found the car you tried to hurt me in while I sat in the back seat and you threw a tire iron at the window. Must have taken you a long time to find the exact one too, saw it as something too special to get crushed and destroyed without saying one last goodbye to it. Well I have something too, something that means a lot to you and has implications greater than your attempt to hurt me while my father chose to leave the arena rather than have me and the rest of the world witness him commit a homicide live on television. Hope you appreciate the effort I went to just tracking this down.

The camera is moved and almost tilts on its side, catching sight of Vitriol sitting with his hands pressing down on Jeff’s body to make sure he is kept completely still and can’t attempt to struggle or wriggle away. Ambrosia meanwhile is shown digging around for something, eventually finding it and raising herself back up and onto her knees, making sure the camera can focus on her as she holds up a condom still in its wrapper, waving it and smiling towards the viewers.

Ambrosia: See this? This is the very condom you discarded the night you decided to impregnate Scott’s mother and create that piece of shit you’re teaming with at Mayhem. Does it mean anything to me though? No, not at all, I’m just pointing out how ridiculous you are to go looking for a car that you shattered the window during a television show years ago. I didn’t forget that moment but it’s not something I’ve ever dwelled on, merely reminded you that if you wanted to get violent towards me in my childhood then now I’m all grown up, I’m more than capable of doing the same to you and finishing what my father started so long ago.

It’s just a measure of your arrogance though, your pathetic ego boosting gaining yourself, your son and your fans the chance to cheer and see you as the newly reborn leader of old when in truth, the rest of the world sees you as you really are……a washed up old has been. You claim I’m faking what I am to make my father happy, that I call myself crazy but don’t mean it? Are you seriously stupid enough to believe that? You’re just worried that you couldn’t beat my father once and for all and now his daughter will also get the better of you and your own flesh and blood. All those traps, all those plans, everything I do requires an intelligence the likes of which you’d never understand and both Vitriol and myself are clear cut in those plans. We both know what we’re doing and what we’re aiming for even if half of it is spur of the moment madness out of our control, just because you don’t wish to see anybody as being more intelligent than you or Scott then doesn’t make your word gospel does it?

You even had the nerve to try to “call me out” as men of little intelligence such as yourself like to say, inform me of my choice not to use all the anger on you last time. What you don’t realize is that I CHOSE to save you for this special edition of Hollyweird because I just KNEW you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. See what I did, letting you get all high and mighty, sit on your supposed throne and spout all sorts of mind numbing spite, all those years feeling guilty at my father getting the best of you unleashed while I sat having my own fun with Vitriol? Do you not notice others mock you? Besides, I’d never stoop myself to your level or especially your son’s by sitting here insulting you, no…..I’m just going to address how ridiculous the pair of you look and sound and save the real anger, the real bile for the match where Vitriol and I will watch you both burn up and have more awkward feelings at the Harris household when your family has to avoid eye contact with the men who couldn’t take down the daughter of Zolomon and her tag team partner because the Lethal Coalition proved to be all talk.

Even trying to mock and insult Vitriol, that’s low. Both of you seem to misunderstand that he is truly something to be feared and let me tell you two, Roman and anybody else foolish enough to fall into the trap of the unknowing reprobates who show week after week why wrestling and society as two whole entities are cursed by plagues such as yourselves. Vitriol never speaks, not because he can’t but because he chooses not to…….indeed, he is one of the most well spoken people I’ve come across since my father but unlike the egocentric surrounding us, he chooses to let his actions speak volumes rather than make empty promises he cannot keep like Lethal Coalition, The Hit Squad, SkaFace and whoever else wishes to descend into the realms of the clueless and idiotic regarding this powerful and destructive force that stands beside me whenever we show what true brutality is in front of crowds of the uninitiated.

Which is why every team seems to be running scared, cowering in terror already before they’ve even set foot inside the ring with us. That surely must be the reason for all of the misguided attempts at insults and misinformation, right? Southern Blood even mentioned not judging a book by its cover but look what we have here, the two just can’t help themselves and become hypocrites before their sentence is even formed. Have we ever looked down on you two because you’re from the South? We don’t need to research you because the important thing is that you are the Tag Team champions and come Tuesday morning, Vitriol and I will have that honor……we don’t need to pore over text books to find out what kind of food Lance likes to eat at weekends or what kind of mouthwash Jay buys to get the taste of pig dick out of his mouth after he got stuck in Eric Herrera’s supply of tequila and had a crazy night Southern style.

No, we don’t look at you Southerners and think badly about you over geographical location, the fact is, we despise everybody equally for conforming and being horrified at the slightest glimpse of somebody’s arm being pulled out of the socket and shoved up their own ass. Work hard…….work shy…….it’s all the same to the two of us, whether you own a ranch and raise cattle while you look over at a Jake Gyllenhal look-alike or own a major media corporation, as long as we have an opportunity to decimate somebody the way only we do best then championships or where you were born doesn’t matter.

Isn’t it ironic that Hit Squad paid non-entities to fight off Roman Steeler as some sort of preparation for the match? Did we miss the part where he also fought Vash the Stampede, himself and the members of SkaFace? Speaking of them actually, you can try to fuck with me or with Vitriol and attempt your funnies but it’ll just end in you boys not having a face for us to scar. Which is also ironic, ska taking on S.C.A.R. and not knowing what they’re letting themselves in for. I have to say one thing though…….the Hawaiian shirts Richard Fairplay seems to enjoy wearing have more charisma than both men put together.

Team Excellence also seem to enjoy their all black lifestyle, standing up like a modern day civil rights movement to represent the athletic side of wrestling. There’s something that confuses me…….Jeffrey Sparxxxx is the more talkative of the team, correct? Randal Williams is the silent type who prefers to get things done in the ring, suffers bouts of shyness…….so why is it that nobody picks up on that and instead attempts to target the clearly more dangerous Vitriol or is it because Team Excellence is more likely to be known as Team Exactly-Who-Were-They-Again? Randal himself apparently suffers from some mental illness, a schizophrenia that causes him to have psychotic episodes which he doesn’t allow to be unleashed because of some sort of “code” preventing him from being his true self.

Let it out Randal, break that one code your family enforces. If they truly loved you and cared about you they’d allow you to get as violent and psychopathic as possible, as long as it gets more accolades for their precious little family of former champions. That’s the thing Randal, your family don’t give a shit about you at all, they just worry about their reputations, they worry you’ll bring about shame and embarrassment to the family name. I dare you to challenge that, unleash that side of you that has to be hidden under false emotions, I want to see if you truly are what I’ve heard about you or whether you’re all hype and bluster, the kind of thing that Lethal Weapon wrongly pinned on Vitriol.

There’s one more who hides away but he’s a definite pretender, the sort that is secretly terrified because of what Vitriol and I have done to other pretenders like Michelle Richards and Priest. Please viewers……and you Jeff…….remember the name of Ryou Bakari Itemri because before long, it will be posted as an obituary on the late edition of Tuesday’s newspapers. This is a man allegedly known as the most violent man in wrestling yet what I’ve seen comes nowhere near the levels of violence perpetrated by my father, myself or Vitriol. Ryou hides his face under a mask but for some strange reason, he removes it before battle. Now really, is that the kind of action you’d expect from a supposed violence incarnate? I know that true horror and fear can be dealt from the unusual and the unorthodox but Ryou…….he just smacks of the kind of person who saw the domination Vitriol has placed upon MCW thus far and wants a part of that himself. Well if he dares remove the mask and “unleash violence” on me, I’ll take that mask and shove its nose into his rectum before he’s annihilated.

Jeff begins to mumble and make noise, infuriating Ambrosia because of the interruption, slapping him again as Vitriol pulls the man’s head up and slams the steel mask directly into Jeff’s face, almost a knockout blow delivered. Satisfied their victim will remain quiet to allow her to finish, Ambrosia looks back at the camera.

Ambrosia: Then there’s his tag team partner....the other half of Green Order……Barney Green, the fat alcoholic who likes to make crude jokes and wears badly fitting clothes. He clearly will have no idea what hit him at Mayhem and the very epitome of gluttony in MCW will find himself given his pound of flesh…….right after we’ve ripped it from his fat, slovenly body with our bare hands and tried to feed it back to him!

There’s one team whose name sounds like something Vitriol and I would enjoy getting to know, it’s just a shame that they’re both old fossils who would probably get dug up by archeologists just to make sure they walk to the ring and compete and one of them is a dirty old man who tried to molest me last time I stood in the ring against him. I’m sure you remember that though don’t you Aerik, when I warned you to stay away, when you failed to do as I asked and ended up with a permanent reminder of the S.C.A.R. you were up against. Now just because I sent you packing back to the geriatric home you belong in, you’ve found another who’s too stupid to know better, a dementia patient who thought he was a judge and now thinks he’s able to step into a ring with me and with the monster alongside me and live to tell the tale. If you both don’t croak in the ring and give me at least something to enjoy about the two of you, believe me……you’ll wish you both had a heart attack at the same time……surprised that isn’t your main move as a tag team, be the only devastating move the two of you will have.

Then of course there’s the final team we get to play with, Last Rites. I could go on and tell you we will read you your last rites but that would be way too cliché for little old me and quite frankly, I’ll leave that for the lesser beings in the match to say…….don’t get excited about me mentioning you again SkaFace because it’s the last time. First we have a giant in Erik Cade……the man is a former Marine, does that mean he spent some of his life underwater? He’d like to think of himself as a shark, a predator who eats the smaller opponents but I’ve got news for you Erik. As Lethal Weapon and his son foolishly believe, it isn’t the bigger men that dominate…..unless it’s my father of course……it’s those smaller that you have to worry about. I already beat Aerik Walker and he’s twice my height, Vitriol has already caused Priest enough problems to have him suffer nightmares about that mask.

I’ll ask you something though……have you ever killed anyone Erik? Watched as you took somebody’s life, saw the fear in their eyes as they met their end? Or were you more of a back room soldier, killing time with paperwork instead of killing the enemy because you were against that sort of thing, too cowardly and horrified to think of the guilt you’d carry around? That’s the difference between you and I because I have no guilt or shame, in fact it’s quite fun to do, watching someone’s last moments. That will be the situation at Mayhem that I’ll watch when somebody like you who promises so much yet fails to deliver falls and your own end comes in MCW. Too busy worrying about losing matches, feeling you are a failure, running around after little blonde bimbos? Not to worry because you can spend more time with her after this match when Vitriol and I cut down those legs and leave you without limbs like so many of your former comrades because if you’re not a predator then you’d better pray right now for the pain and the death of your career to be swift.

Speaking of death, once again Priest is involved with Vitriol just two weeks before Highway to Hell V. Do you really believe you are of another reality than the rest of us? The only reality you live in is the one where you keep being shown up for the fraud you really are time and time again by Vitriol. What makes you think this time will be any different? You’re just a glutton for punishment and Mayhem will prove that before you’re shown up at Nightmare Before Christmas once and for all. Let me tell you though Priest, you take up the name of somebody in religion, the type of career that sees priests abusing young boys or saw a priest from England murdered by a paranoid schizophrenic who called himself Jack Blade and thought he was both God and the Devil. That kind of duality you like to intertwine with your religious name and hellish persuasions will see the death of you just like that English priest did only your end won’t come at the end of a blade……it will come at the hands of Vitriol. I don’t need to tell you anything you or anybody else in this match doesn’t already know because like it or not, the inmates will run the asylum and Vitriol and I will bring our brand of anarchy to Mayhem to the delight of all of my wonderful Hollyweird viewers. Make sure you tune in fans because Mayhem will truly be….shocking.

Grinning like a maniac, Ambrosia begins to leap up and down, still almost kneeling next to Jeff and attacking him, Vitriol doing the same with punches to his side as the actions of the pair and the rocking of the van from side to side causes the webcam to topple and lose the picture, static prominent on the screen.....